


i will win for you

by halcyonskies



Series: 100Themes: Dean/Cas [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Prince Dean, Soldier Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4951417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyone would argue that having the prince's favor helps one immensely in a skirmish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will win for you

**Author's Note:**

> 100Themes Challenge - #43: Duel

“This is stupid.”

“Ah, but would you really let your knight go into battle without the good-luck token of his lady love?”

“First of all,” Dean huffed, crossing his arms, “I’m not a lady, as you well know. Second, you’re hardly going into battle.”

“People have died on Skirmish Days!” Castiel pointed out haughtily, always so cheeky even when he stood before his crown prince in little more than his underdrawers.

_“One_ person died, Cas, and he wasn’t even in a skirmish when it happened! His heart gave out before he entered the arena. Certainly no one else’s fault.”

“Perhaps it was sabotage.”

“For the eighteenth position? I don’t think so.”

“So callously you speak of your soldiers, little prince.”

Over the course of his life, Dean had been called many things. It came with the burden of being the next in line for rule, especially of a kingdom that was as eager for a fight as theirs was (not for war, usually, but they had these Skirmish Days for a reason). Most were indifferent of him, waiting to pass judgement until he’d actually taken the bulk of rule upon his shoulders. Some hated the royal family on principle, and had called him awful things they dared not utter in the king’s vicinity.

Hateful people had called him _little prince,_ had spit on his family and scoffed that he would never be a ruler like the Great Kings of old. But when that epithet passed Castiel’s lips, Dean knew he need not fear derision. From Castiel it was affectionate, gently teasing (much like the man was when they were alone and engaged in _different_ activities). Of anyone else, Castiel was Dean’s closest and dearest friend.

“They’re about to sound the horn, Dean,” Castiel said, and suddenly Dean was aware of how his mind had drifted away. When he focused again on the present, Castiel was already outfitted in his helmet and leathers, looking so neat and smart it was all Dean could do not to swipe the headgear off and devour his soldier’s mouth. He held back, sighing as if greatly put-upon.

“If you absolutely _insist.”_ From one of his many pockets Dean retrieved the kerchief he’d never had any intention of not bringing. It was his favorite, well-loved and faded from the many times it’d been washed. Quickly, he tied it around Castiel’s wrist and tucked the loose ends beneath the leather guard, pressing a quick kiss there when he had finished.

“You better win first position, is all I’m saying.”

“For you?” Castiel laughed, the sound low and rumbling. “Of course I will.”


End file.
